The Clockmaker's Problem

The tall towers of Prague rose through the morning fog like fingers reaching up to the sky. Polly flew down through the narrow stone streets, her green feathers shining in the weak October sunlight. The city looked beautiful in autumn — golden leaves covered the ground, and the air smelled of smoke and roasted chestnuts.

"Be careful, little bird!" shouted a street seller as Polly almost hit a tram on Charles Bridge. She had come to Prague because she heard about something strange happening at the famous astronomical clock in Old Town Square.

When Polly landed near the clock tower, she saw that something was very wrong. The clock, which had worked perfectly for over six hundred years, was stopped at eleven minutes past four. Tourists looked disappointed and locals shook their heads with frustration.

"It hasn't moved for three days," said a rough voice next to her. Polly turned and saw an old man in a worn jacket. His silver beard was neat, but his face looked worried. "I'm Václav Novotný, and my family has taken care of this clock for many generations."

The old clockmaker pointed at the tower with shaking hands. "The city officials want to bring modern technicians who understand computers better than old clocks. But they don't realize that some things can't be fixed with modern technology."

Polly was interested in his passionate voice. "What's really wrong with it?" she asked in Czech.

Václav's eyes grew wide when he heard the parrot speak Czech. "That's the mystery," he said quietly. "Everything should work perfectly. I've checked every gear and spring. But the clock won't run, as if it's waiting for something."

A cold wind blew across the square. Church bells rang the hour everywhere except at the clock tower. Polly felt there was more to this story than just a broken machine.

"Show me," Polly said, flying toward the tower door.